Twisted lives
by Nipah-chan
Summary: Professor Layton was shaped by those who died around him - but what if they didn't die? What sort of person would he be then? Spoilers for ... most of the games.
1. Chapter 1

"_Professor Hershel Layton. From what I can see his life was shaped by those around him dying – in unfortunate circumstances. He only became a professor of archaeology because of Lando Ascad, he only became a gentleman because of Claire Folley. If you want to defeat your enemy you need only save these people from dying. You are doing the world a favour then – instead of killing one you need only save two"_

"_And if this doesn't work?"_

"_You get your fame and fortune, by saving two dead people" _

Hershel wiped his cars windscreen for the fifth time that morning – he'd just noticed yet another greasy fingerprint.

"Hershel! Called someone from behind him. "Haven't you got studying to do…Wow" the voice paused and Hershel took his time turning around to meet his friends.

"Is that yours?" asked someone whose name Hershel couldn't remember. He smiled proudly at his brand new red shiny car and nodded.

"Yeah" he said quickly. "And no, you're not getting a ride"

A few groans emitted from the university students around him. It just wasn't fair in their minds, he always passed his exams well _and_ he was doing a double major. But he didn't have to work very hard for it, yet he still got his license and a car before any of them. Hershel laughed at them silently – none of them matched his intellect and though it was boasting he did have to admit it – he found the university courses uninteresting and… to be honest – easy. It wasn't too much extra effort for him to find a well paying nearly full time job and learn how to drive at the same time.

The group started chattering between themselves, mostly about how unfair their lives were, so he waved a brief farewell and jumped over the door and into the car – no one in their right mind would bother opening a door when there wasn't a roof, surely! He started the engine quickly and drove off – leaving his so called friends gawking after him.

He was to meet his girlfriend Claire – he loved saying that, even in his head – at a café for morning tea. And he was in a rush to get there. He had often heard people talk of "the one" and many of his friends thought Claire to be that person for him. She had a temper when she wanted one, and if anyone could keep Hershel from getting too full of himself it was her. But Hershel was a little less sure of this, true he did love her, but sometimes he felt that it wasn't worth it. It was like he knew that any day soon she would be taken from him, and he was not much looking forward to that day.

At the café Hershel took his time getting out of his car. He could see Claire through the glass and she was looking sad. He knew that expression. It was one that he'd noticed on a lot of girls around the university campus on the day they broke up with their boyfriends. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The little bell rung and a few people looked up from their coffees and newspapers.

"I'm sorry for being so late" apologised Hershel quickly seeing Claire's face. But she stood up quickly and smiled.

"No, no it's okay. I'm just glad you're here" she said as she hugged him. They sat down at the table by the window and Hershel was secretly hoping Claire would notice his new car.

"What would you like?" she asked him.

"I'll get it, don't worry" he insisted, as he stood up to go and order "Anything you want?"

"Just a tea thanks" she smiled after him. Her breathing was a little shallower than usual and she seemed a little nervous – Hershel waved it off as he ordered two earl grey teas.

Returning to their table with two steaming cups Hershel noticed Claire was holding something. He didn't ask about it but instead questioned her on her day. She laughed it off and placed a box on the table in front of him.

"Open it!" she encouraged. Hershel started opening it but then a masked man walked quickly into the café.

"Stop!" he yelled. Hershel looked up at him and smirked. The man was definitely not that much into looks or fashion. His mask and cape… Hershel could only laugh.

"Hello" he said looking down at Hershel distastefully. "Remember me?" Everyone in the café was looking up at them, nothing this interesting ever happened in this café and they all wanted to see where it was going.

Hershel stopped laughing for a moment and looked at the man. He did remember him from somewhere… where was it? "Jean Descole?" he asked, but the moment he spoke the words he knew he was wrong. It was true that he did look a little like Jean Descole, but he also looked completely different.

Hershel remembered then, this was the man who saved Lando's life. When he had been hanging from the cliff this man had turned up and pulled him to safety. But they'd had an argument not soon after and Hershel had left to London without his parents and his friends… And now this man was back again – for what purpose?

"I'd say I've held you two up long enough – please continue whatever you were going to do" the man interrupted his train of thought. Then he turned with a swish of his cape and walked out of the café.

"Do you know that man, Hershel?" asked Claire. As she picked up the box and put it behind her. Hershel didn't even notice her doing so.

"I do…" he murmured. Claire looked at him questioningly. "Weren't you supposed to be at work?" he asked. Claire nodded sadly, and left him sitting by himself.

Hershel was lost in thought, trying his hardest to work out why that man had come back. Suddenly the ground began to shake - making the walls move with it. It almost felt like it was rolling, and the noise… The noise was terrifying. His first instinct was to get outside – but that was impossible. He tried to stand up and instead only fell over. He felt powerless against everything – he'd never felt like that before. Other people in the café were screaming and trying to move. Bits of brick and mortar were crashing onto the ground around him. The counter was heading steadily towards him and he thought he was about to squashed flat. He made one last dash for the door, but it wouldn't open. It was jammed shut by the ceiling that had started to fall down. Hershel ducked and pulled his arms over his head – focusing only on the sight of his brand new car out the window being crushed by the awning of the shop.

It stopped slowly, but Hershel couldn't tell. As far as he knew the ground was still shaking because of how much he himself was shaking. He looked around him then, and the café was no longer much of a café. The ceiling had collapsed in the middle of the room. The front wall had fallen away from the building leaving an exposed gap. He could still hear things shaking, and he could hear people's screams. There was a lot of rubble in front of the shop – from the wall and the awning. But Hershel gathered himself together and climbed over it. The pile of bricks moved unsteadily under his weight, but it held up until he was on reasonably firm ground.

People were running backwards and forwards along the street – screaming and crying. Hershel couldn't laugh at their stupidness, because he didn't know what was going on either. He sat down quickly and tried to regain his control. He didn't know what he was waiting for until Claire ran up to him.

"Hershel! Come quickly!" she cried, dragging him to his feet and pulling him along. He followed blindly – still imaging the ground was shaking below him. It was strange to think how quickly his life could have been extinguished…

"Look!" she said, pointing at a building in front of them. It was completely destroyed. It was more of a gaping hole with fire leaping from the ground, but the damage extended further than that. The whole block of houses was damaged badly – in fact most of the area had been damaged.

"It was an experiment we were doing… I was late to it, and they went ahead without me. I didn't… I nearly died Hershel! That man saved me!" and she started weeping.

Hershel took her in his arms and hugged her.

"It's okay" he murmured.

Meanwhile only a mitre or two away a young boy in a blue cap was sobbing uncontrollably. This boy took his hat off and held it to his chest taking a few deep breaths. Then he ran headfirst into the burning building. No one even noticed, and his name would only be added to the list of those who died in the initial explosion. Those who would be erased from history by Bill Hawks.

**So, Clive's dead. And Claire's alive. Was that a good or bad deal? **


	2. Chapter 2

"Just shut up will you – for once!" he yelled.

"Hershel! Will you just listen to me? Please! I'm trying to tell you something!" she said forcefully, as she smacked the palms of her hands against the table he was sitting behind. On either side of him were some boys who slowly moved away taking their food with them. Hershel watched them walk off, and ignored Claire who was still screaming at him. What was wrong with her today?

"Hershel, I'm pregnant…" she murmured, sinking down to table height.

"What?" asked Hershel, still angry at her for scaring away his friend "That's impossible!"

"Well, I… I'm sorry… but…" she petered out as Hershel stood up. His chair flew out behind him and crashed into a wall. The bang made Claire start.

"It's impossible" he said again bringing one hand down on the table. "You didn't? You did! You little-"

"Layton – stop that! You're coming with me right now" interrupted a tutor, laying his hand on Hershel's shoulder.

"It's over, Claire" he muttered at her angrily before turning and letting himself be lead away by the tutor.

"Now, Mr Layton, would you kindly enlighten me as to what that was all about?" asked the tutor. He was sitting behind a desk that contained nothing but a small name plaque – Prof. Summerfield. His hands were laying in his lap and his head was cocked to one side – letting his hair that was too long for a respectable man - fall across half of his face.

"It's nothing" Hershel said quickly.

"Now, I know it's not. Please remember why you ended up under my care in the first place. It's my job to make sure you don't go and do anything so stupid again"

"I wouldn't have hurt her!" he objected – remembering all too well the circumstances which had brought him to professor Summerfield.

"_Fight! Fight! Fight!" a group of teenagers are cheering. There are two people in the middle of the circle. A smart looking red head, and a scruffy looking boy with an afro. _

_They are facing each other, one with a smile and the other with an expression of only anger. _

"_Come on, Hershie!" laughs the red head. "You know you can't beat me – just give up now!" _

_The boy with the afro smiles. "I know I can't beat you. I don't need to fight you to make you break" _

"_What do you mean, Hershie?" asks the red head as he skips teasingly closer towards the boy with the afro. _

_The boy with the afro leans towards him and whispers something in the red heads ear. The red heads face immediately turns the same colour as his hair. _

_It didn't take much longer for the red head to find a piece of metal piping conveniently handed to him by one of the members of the crowd. _

"_You will pay for that Hershel! You know full well that-" yells the red head as he swings the pipe at the boy's afro. But he is cut off as another piece of metal connects with his legs and he finds himself tripping up. _

"_Hershel Layton! What ever are you doing, my boy?" comes an adults voice from beyond the wall of teenagers. They part readily to let the man through. _

"_Hershel, what did you do to this boy?" says the man.. "Come with me right now! This is unacceptable behaviour from a young man such as yourself. This was your last chance; you are going to London – tonight" _

_The boy with the afro groans, and drops the piece of metal. "Oh god, Lando, I'm so sorry" _

"_Yeah – of course you're sorry now your dad has turned up. Well whatever, you're leaving now – bye I guess" says the red head as he pulls himself up. The boy with the afro nods acknowledgment and even tries to help pull his friend up. But the red head refuses his help and stalks off to the group of teenagers; leaving the boy with the afro at the mercy of his father. _

"_Pack right this instant – Hershel Layton. You are going to go and stay with professor Summerfield"_

"I believe you, Hershel" professor Summerfield paused for a moment "But I do have to say that you must try and control yourself!"

"What for…" mumbled Hershel.

"Pardon?"

"I said what for? Why bother controlling myself? It's not like I have a girlfriend anymore, or friends – let alone family"

"Hershel" muttered the man pitifully. "Maybe if you did control yourself you would still have friends, a girlfriend and even family"

"And what would you know?" asked Hershel – rhetorically, before standing up and leaving the professors room.

He had no where to go, he didn't really know what he was doing. He'd had enough of this. Claire had cheated on him – and gotten pregnant! His only friends were far away, and it's not like they'd even want to know him now. His family were just as far away. When did everything start going so wrong for him? And the strangest thing was that he felt like it wasn't what was meant to happen. He knew how ridiculous that sounded, but it was just how he felt. It was like he'd been tricked out of his real life and now he was stuck in this one.

He was walking through one of the many courtyards. This particular one had a square of grass in the middle and there were a few students sitting on it - eating or reading.

"Oh what the hell" he muttered before walking up to the group nearest him.

"Hi" he started to the group. The group looked up at him and one of them quickly packed their bag and walked away. Hershel was not fazed and sat down with them.

"Uh" a few of them started.

"How are you?" Hershel asked, before they could tell him to go away.

"Well, I'm going to be late for my 2 o clock lecture" said one of them.

"Yeah me too" agreed another one of them. Both of them packed up their bags and then looked at their other two friends.

"Are you two coming or what?"

"Yes, yeah right away"

And with that they all left. Hershel was left sitting by himself. Again. Alone.

"Um, hi – is it okay if I sit here?" asked a small voice behind him. He turned around quickly – startled.

"Paul – of course you can" he said, glad that at least someone was going to sit with him.

"I'm sorry, Hershel" started Paul.

"What? What for?" asked Hershel – immediately getting suspicious.

"Didn't Claire tell you?"

"What!"

"We're both really sorry… We didn't mean to"

"That is it!" yelled Hershel – standing up. Then he walked off, leaving his bag and Paul behind. He made a noise of annoyance and kicked at a tree. He didn't yet no where he was going – but he was definitely going.

He half ran to his car – his new second hand car. The other one was beyond repair. This one was professor Summerfield's old car – and now it was his.

Professor Summerfield had named it the Laytonmobile, it used to be the Summermobile – but let's be honest, it doesn't sound anywhere near as good.

Hershel opened the door and found a box sitting on the driver's seat. He recognised it as the one Claire has tried to give to him the day of the explosion… He opened it without hesitation and a small hand written note with an x on the front of it fell out. He opened the note up.

"I'm truly sorry Hershel, if you can ever forgive me please come back! We could always raise the baby as our own – but until that day please take this. I should have given it to you a long time ago, although I probably won't ever see you wearing it I'm sure you will look dashing. Like the true gentleman I know you are"

He felt his eyes begin to water, but he brushed it away and opened the box properly. He let the note drift to the bottom of the car. Lifting up the top of the box he saw what it was. A blacky brown top hat with a red ribbon wound around the bottom.

He took his red cap off and placed the top hat on his head. He looked at himself in the side mirror, and for a moment he saw a reflection of himself wearing a large brown jacket with an orange pullover. Behind him he saw a small boy with a blue cap. It only took one blink for this image to disappear and he guessed he had been hallucinating. Too much had happened to him today. With the hat still on his head he climbed into his car and started the engine.

That hat was made for him, it didn't even move. Or maybe, he was made for that hat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all for the reviews! They're awesome! I just wanna say two things, first of all go roleplay on Professor Layton: Monocle because we need a resistance leader. And secondly I just have to … donate… at least a page of this to Lando and Claire because they're the cutest couple ever! Sorry professor. **

Hershel shook his head, finding it uncomfortably bare after wearing his new hat all day… and most of the night. He sat up quickly, trying to desperately find his hat with waving arms. But instead of finding his hat – his head found the roof of the car. He groaned in pain, and was more than glad when one of his hands clamped on the rim of the hat. He straightened it up a little and placed it on his head.

He'd spent the night sleeping on the backseats of his Laytonmobile and it was not the most comfortable thing in the world. He welcomed the freedom of getting out of the car, and spent a good quarter of an hour just stretching. He took in the plain London street on the curb of where he'd parked. It was boring to say the least – but it relaxed Hershel somewhat because he felt as though he'd seen it before.

Not bothering to lock his car he started off along the street – hoping he didn't look to bad considering he'd just slept on the backseat. He came to corner and without thinking turned down it. On the way he noticed a sign "_Midland Road_", he was sure he'd never been here before so why did it sound so familiar?

He continued on, straightening his hat at various intervals. He noticed that people were looking at him strangely and he felt overly self conscious – especially about his hat. But for some reason he could just not bring himself to take it off.

"Professah, I can see the clock shop from here!"

"Be careful you don't slip, my boy"

Hershel instinctively put his hand to his head – first he was seeing things, and now he was hearing voices as well... Perhaps he should go to the doctors? But then he'd get taken back to professor Summerfield – and Claire and Paul… and Clark. Not that anything bad had happened between Clark and him – they just didn't enjoy the same things anymore. Hershel had only dabbled in archaeology for a little before deciding psychology was more his forte – while Clark had no plans on ever quitting archaeology.

He continued on down the path, remembering the boy's words of seeing a clock shop. He was surprised when he saw no such thing; though it's not like he could actually expect the voices in his head to be right.

"Don't touch that, you'll get your hands all dirty"

"Oh, that was close, I nearly stepped in that puddle"

There the voices were again… Hershel stopped and steadied himself. There was a puddle right in front of him, and he had nearly walked into it. But surely that was just a coincidence…?

"I need to think about something else" he told himself sternly, but then he couldn't find anything to think about. There was nothing interesting to look at either, and it seemed to be a dead end. He turned around and walked reluctantly back.

"So you haven't seen Hershel Layton then?" Claire asked, hopping from one foot to the other nervously.

"No sorry…" mumbled a group of people about her age – they slowly drifted away then leaving her standing there by herself. She sank in on herself a little then – she had expected Hershel to maybe freak out a little, but really his reaction of running away seemed a little over the top. She'd searched a little of London, and called the police to help out. And just then she was in Steviano searching for him. She hadn't slept since Professor Summerfield had told her he'd disappeared.

"Hullo" came a cheery voice from behind her – immediately cutting off her thoughts. "I heard you were out looking for Hershel?"

'Yes!' she cried – over jubilantly as she spun around. "I am, have you seen him?" she slowly stopped and her voice melted away. The man standing in front of her looked very familiar.

"No sorry, not since he hit me with a metal pole anyway. My name's Lando Ascad – what's yours?" he stuck his hand out then, waiting for her to shake it.

_This_ was Lando? Claire couldn't help but marvel out how he had supposedly been able to beat Hershel at every fight. She felt mean just to think it… but he didn't look very strong. She cleared her mind then, and willingly accepted his hand.

"I'm Claire Folley" she said with a smile – this was the best she'd felt in at least 24 hours. This was the nicest someone had been to her in at least a month.

"You look tired" he said quickly. She couldn't help but smile at his bluntness.

"I haven't slept in a while" she mumbled apologetically.

"Come on then – I know exactly what you need" he put his hand lightly on her arm and lead her with some speed towards the nearest coffee shop. She followed in his wake, letting the warm sun rays, and the smile from Lando's face calm her hectic thoughts.

He found himself sitting in his car then – with no idea at all where he was going to go next. He didn't have much money either… but he decided that wasn't so important. And anyway they'd probably find him before his circumstances became too dire. So he gladly took the map out of the glove box and turned to the index.

He pulled his hat over his eyes – finding it easier than just shutting them – and moved his hand over the page before bringing his index finger down. Nervously he pushed his hat back and looked down on the page.

_St Mystere Page 44_

"Well, I guess that's where I'm going"

**Just a small warning… from here on the time sequence will make utterly no sense because I have no gap fillers. So just pretend it all works? Please review – constructive criticism appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you have a place to stay?" a warm voice broke through her fuzzy thoughts. Claire shook her head and sat up a bit straighter. Lando was lounging back in his chair opposite her enjoying his second cup of tea. He had a smile dancing playfully across his features, and looked like he was about to jump up and carry her away into the sunset.

"You can come and stay with me, if you want I mean" he said – sitting up, realising that Claire was now looking at him.

"That would be wonderful, thank you Lando" she smiled brightly.

"Are you sure you don't want a drink of anything else before we go? A coffee, tea?"

"Oh no, I can't"

"Why not? Surely a woman of Hershel's must love tea"

"Oh I do – it's just…" she faded out, realising that now she had no choice but to tell him. Lando placed his hands on the table and leaned in towards Claire.

"What is it? Tell!"

Claire let out a little sigh and wrapped her hands around the empty glass of water.

"I really need to find Hershel because... he left before I could explain properly. And I'm worried that now he thinks I cheated on him with Paul"

Lando sat back as he realised this was serious. He put his head in his hands for a brief moment and when he looked up again all sense of mischief had gone from his eyes. Claire didn't notice though as she was looking past him – to the distance. Somewhere out there was her baby's father, the problem was that he didn't know that.

"I'm pregnant, you see… and I just… Hershel knows – but he doesn't know it's his. And he ran away, and now I'm really worried for him"

"Well in that case" started Lando who had been listening with a very intent expression on his face "We'll have to find him – right away! We can take my parents car. Do you have anything you need to bring?"

Claire couldn't help but smile at Lando's energy but she didn't really want to go and look for him like this… what she really wanted was for him to come back. "No…" she muttered instead to Lando.

"Well let's go!" he half shouted – dropping a note on the table for the waiter - and dragged Claire by the arm towards his house.

"Claire Foley!"

Claire turned around but she couldn't see anyone – looking ahead she saw Lando's tall figure walking towards the sun. So who was talking?

"Claire Foley!"

"Who is it?" she asked. Lando stopped and turned around – wanting to say something, but didn't.

"Th-'s not import- right n-. Wh- is -ant is you can hear me – Y- -ed to go to the ruins, ask L- to -ow you wh- he was -ing over the edge. It'll be esi-er to c-icate there"

"The ruins?" she asked, but the voice didn't speak again. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to face Lando.

"You want to see them? We could take a detour" he suggested. Claire nodded, not entirely sure if it was the best thing to do. But it wasn't like she had any choice – she had always been curious about the idea of an afterlife, maybe it was a ghost? Though her sensible scientist side sharply told her that no such thing was possible.

Hershel climbed out of his car and looked around. It didn't look that impressive. He'd been driving most of the day and it was late and starting to get dark, and the town wasn't even open.

"Hello!" he called out – but the drawbridge remained closed. He was determined not to sleep another night in his car so he started to walk along the river surrounding the edge of the town trying to find a way in.

Luck was with him and he found an open pot hole. "I can't believe I'm doing this…" he said out loud to no one in particular. Then clutching at his hat with one hand and the ladder with the other he started down into the sewers of St Mystere.

**Yeah, I'm kind of bored with the professors side of the story now. So… more Claire and Lando! *tumbleweed* **

…**oh… okay then… But tough – because I love them, and will not be changing their pairing for the world. **


	5. Chapter 5

It was a silent walk to the ruins, the sun was starting to set and it was what was called "The Golden Hour". They were both lost in their own thoughts as Claire followed patiently behind Lando.

"Can you hear me properly now, miss?"

"Yes, yes I can" she murmured back – not wanting Lando to hear her and thing she was mad. The voice sighed before continuing.

"I almost wish you couldn't… but if you walk a little further forward you should be able to see me too"

Claire nodded, assuming the voice could see her.

"Lando, would you mind if I went on a little by myself? I just want a-"

"Of course you can – I'll come and find you before it gets dark though. Be careful"

Claire nodded, and set off - following the directions of the voice.

A little ahead of her she could see a shimmering blue figure. As she got closer the picture became clearer. He was about the same age as her, she guessed, and he was dressed in a dark blue sweater with a bright blue cap. She recognised him – but she didn't know where from.

"Good morning Claire Foley. Or is it your evening? I can't see you…"

"It's evening… but who are you? How do you know my name?"

"We met – a while ago in my time, but a future away in yours"

Claire didn't even know what to say to that, she'd never really been in situation like it before. And they certainly never taught her what to say to this sort of thing in school.

The young man standing in front of her shifted a little, and she guessed that despite the fact he couldn't see her he did sense her discomfit.

"I'm sure this is a lot to take in, and it's not going to get easier… but… Oh – I beg your pardon. My name is Luke Triton, the professor's assistant number one"

"Professor? Do you mean Professor Summerfield?" she asked, suddenly finding her tongue again.

"No? Who is he? I mean Professor Hershel Layton"

Claire couldn't help but stifle a laugh. "Hershel, a professor? Now I know I am going mad"

Luke immediately started to fade away "Ah, no… to the left! No the right! There – perfect" he said as he gestured wildly to things that Claire couldn't see.

"I don't have much more time, but I'll try to explain to you what I know. My world has been changed because of an event in your world. And all the things that are happening in my world shouldn't have happened"

Claire shook her head – forgetting that he couldn't even see her. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand"

Luke sighed deeply, and then looked her straight in the eye. She found herself wondering how could he not see her?

"Lando was meant to fall from a ledge – but in your world he didn't. Just as you, Claire, were supposed to die in that time machine explosion-"

"How do you know about that? The press was kept quiet" she interrupted. Luke only waved his hands about in exasperation.

"I'm really sorry – but I'm running out of time. But you didn't, and I don't know how neither of you did, but you just did. And that's changing things now. I don't really understand how this time travel stuff works but-" Just as suddenly as he'd appeared he disappeared again. Claire couldn't hear or see him and she was beginning to wonder if he was just a figment of her imagination. She needed sleep, and she needed sleep now… she was far too worked up.

"Can you hear me? I'm sorry, but I was using too much power. I have to say the next bit quickly – don't ask questions until next time. Because whoever changed the course of time they changed it to directly affect the professor – sorry, I mean Hershel Layton – he was the one that changed first… I'm probably going to be next, so I've made sure there's others who will keep in contact with you. We're going to have to ask you to do something very difficult and we really do apologise for it in advance. But trust me when I say the London I'm in now is no pretty picture at all. In fact… it's worse than your worst nightmares. And this is the only thing we can do about it. Claire Foley – we're going to have to send you back in time to your past self. And you'll have to persuade yourself to go to work that day – no matter what"

Claire tried to interrupt here, but Luke wouldn't let her.

"Next time you meet one of us from the future it won't be me – they probably won't have any connection with you at all… But treat whoever it is well – don't get angry with what we're trying to do. But London needs its professor, and this is the only way… I think that….."

He did continue talking, but Claire had long stopped listening. She had turned around and walked away. A strange voice was basically telling her to kill herself – as if she'd listen to it.

"Claire!" panted Lando, jogging up to her. 'There you are. All ready to go now?"

Claire could only nod – trying to put Luke Triton and Professor Hershel Layton to the very back of her mind. But she couldn't help thinking – what if he was real, and right? And that because she'd survived when she wasn't supposed to the world had changed, for the worse apparently. Then what choice would she have but to- No, she wasn't going to think like that. She was going to find Hershel and make him understand the truth, that's what she was going to do. And she was going to ignore these "future ramblings".

"Is something the matter, Claire?" asked Lando as he walked closer to her.

"No, nothing – I'm fine"

"Were you talking to someone back there? Because I swear I saw someone for a moment"

Claire tensed at that – so it wasn't just her that was going mad? Or maybe she wasn't going mad at all. "No, I wasn't talking to anyone – you must have imagined it"

Lando shrugged as though he thought that was a reasonable enough answer, and continued onwards talking light-heartedly about the reception Claire was most likely to receive. As it turned out she received no such reception – it had gotten so late that everyone had gone to bed. Lando smiled about this as well, and showed Claire to a guest bedroom before retiring himself. Claire was excited just to be in such a fancy house, and it didn't take long before the luxury wore down on her rough edges and she fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for the reviews! And just for the views, too! They make me smile a little more! And also, I need some random Londoners. They can be from the games/movie or not, but if you wouldn't mind leaving one or two names and which game they were in (or if they're an OC a bit about them) so I can put them in to talk to Claire and later … someone else too. **

It was a bright, sunny day in St Mystere. The residents were going about their normal business, thinking that nothing was out of place and everything was as usual. A young girl with a scarf wrapped around her face was walking down a street, smiling at some of the inhabitants as she walked past them. A few of them nodded at her politely, but mostly they let her walk between them unnoticed.

The morning looked as though it was going to continue in this way, with smiles and nods and errands being run, until a man-hole cover flew about 5 feet into the air in the middle of a street. Soon followed by a slightly squashed, brown top hat; this top hat lead on to reveal a very dishevelled looking young man.

Most of the villagers rushed away then – a man coming up through the sewers was not a daily occurrence, and they preferred things to stay as they were. "If it's not broke, don't fix it" was a phrase the villagers took much delight in using – though it wasn't clear, even to them, why that was.

There was, however, one person left standing on the street. She was a curious little girl – and she couldn't resist standing there for a few moments longer. Who was this strange man, and why had he come up through the sewers?

The man, who was of course, Hershel Layton, straightened his hat and tried to look dignified in front of the young girl. "Who are you?" he asked her – not wishing to be as rude as he sounded, but he had just crawled through many mitres of piping and it was not a particularly pleasant experience.

"My father told me not to talk to strangers" she said, giggling a little at the stench.

"Then how would you ever make new friends?"

"Oh, I don't have any…" she looked down for a moment, and then looked up at Hershel again. "If you want you could be my friend, then you wouldn't be a stranger and I could talk to you"

He started to get a little annoyed at the girl's logic - though of course, he supposed, it was completely true. "Yes, yes" he said impatiently. The girl smiled happily, and unwound the scarf from her face.

"My name's Flora Reinhold, what's yours?"

"Hershel Layton" he said uncertainly, and when it seemed clear she wasn't going to say anything else… "Why was the drawbridge up?"

"To keep people out of course!"

"But why would you want to do that?"

"Not me, silly. It was my father's decision. Come on – you're all smelly, I'll show you to where you can have a wash. But… no one's allowed to see me, okay?"

He nodded; he was cold, wet and tired. He really didn't care what stupid games this girl was going to play with him – he just wanted a wash. So he followed after her, and as she started to wind her scarf back around her head the villagers started coming back into the village.

They walked past him, as he followed the girl, throwing him suspicious glances and haughty comments about his attire – especially the state it was currently in. Hershel tried his absolute hardest to ignore them – not wishing to let the girl think he was mean or cruel. All he wanted in that moment was a clean change of clothes, and the only way he could receive such things would require him keeping this girl, Flora, as a friend for as long as he could.


End file.
